


Running Into You

by TempusNoKitsune



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Charles Being Concerned, Charles Is a Big Dorkface, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Charles-centric, Erik Has Feelings, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Erik is a Sweetheart, Erik is an Engineer, Falling In Love, Hank Being Awesome, M/M, Multi, Sassy Raven, erik is an architect student
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-03-09 03:55:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 17,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13473183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TempusNoKitsune/pseuds/TempusNoKitsune
Summary: Hello, I’m the guy who bumped into you yesterday. I got your number from some papers that you dropped. I figure that you might want them back? Let me know a good time and place, or an address and I’d be happy to return them. -Charles sent 3:05pm





	1. Chapter 1

It was much a day like any other. The alarm went off precisely at 4:30 in the morning, causing the lump under the rather heavy sheets to grumble incoherently and shift about. He fumbles blearily out from under the covers, throwing his phone onto the bed in his place as he haphazardly pulls on a worn pair of khaki pants over his boxers. The shirt is a bit more of an involved affair. He works to be quiet, lest he wake the whole dorm in his early morning tumbling. The door to the wardrobe at the end of his bed still swings open a bit too easily, despite being terribly difficult to close. This means that the handle hits the wall with a rather loud smack, and not for the first time, he’s happy to be the only person in his suite of two rooms. Regardless of the noise he reaches into the small expandable basket and pulls out the shirt closest to the top, bringing it up to is nose for a cursory sniff before ruling it safe to wear. All the better for him, it’s a rather nice blue button up, the one that Raven has told him brings out his eyes.

He takes an extra couple of minutes to go to the restroom and brush his teeth before running out to the bus stop. There’s not many people out and about this early in the morning, most narrowed down to the health nuts getting up to exercise, and students or professors aiming to get into the labs as soon as possible in the morning. 

“Good morning, John!” He greets the bus driver cheerily, if not a bit sleepily. It’s the same driver as it is every morning, and he’s greeted by a warm smile and courtesy greeting in return. 

Most usually he’s got the bus to himself at this time a day, perhaps accompanied by one or two other people, only for them to hop off long before the school approaches sight. Today, however, there’s someone who looks to be about his age, someone who he hasn’t seen before. At first he pays little mind, no more than a cursory glance and a surface scan of the others thoughts, - something that’s more instincts than it is intention - which is enough to peak his interest, though he doesn't look into it any further, more out of a respect for the other's privacy than anything else. This changes when the other fails to get off after the first, second, third, and all subsequent stops running up to the school. If that wasn’t enough in itself, he seemed to be carrying quite a few bags, arms weighed down heavily and unevenly, something that Charles himself was incredibly familiar with.

Intending to be helpful and nice, and perhaps to assuage some of his own curiosity without overstepping personal privacy boundaries, Charles makes his way over, sidestepping at just the wrong second and colliding with the other. For a split moment he’s met with a firm chest, his forehead bumping awkwardly into he man’s collar as they hit one another face on. Charles notes go flying every which way, and the other’s bags fall heavily on top of their feet, causing them to let out twin hissing sounds, bumping together once more.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry!” The apology came out as more of a rushed breath than anything else as he reached up with one hand to cover his now throbbing forehead, using the other to begin gathering both of their things up. “I meant to offer help and I’ve gone and made everything into a huge mess instead.”

He tries to pick up too many things at once and promptly drops them once again, huffing out a quiet curse under his breath. 

Strong hands clasp around his upper arms, steadying him as he teeters on his feet.

“It’s all right.”

Charles’s eyes snap up, surprised by the thickly laced accent and the heated brands of the man’s strong hands. His eyes are a steely grey, set in a face of sharp features that Charles own eyes take in greedily. The man was terribly handsome, there was no denying that. Perhaps that’s part of the reason as to why he's so easily led out of the bus and onto the sidewalk, books and papers bundled up into his arms.

They stand just staring at one another for a moment, and Charles honestly can’t remember blinking, but, God, he doesn't want to. The man in front of him is an Adonis, and if he blinks the sharp masculine image may simply dissipate into the cool morning light around them. It’s the sharp trill of his messaging tone that pulls them out of it, startling him enough that he takes a physical step back from where they had begun to mindlessly lean into one another. 

“I’ve got to...I’m sorry, I’ve got to go.” He somehow gets out, mouth working really before his brain does, feet trying to pull him to the lab on autopilot while the rest of his body seems to beg him to stay. “I’m sorry again about your things!”

Charles will forever deny that he sprints away at this point, something like a frightened animal. The air is far too cool to be running in and his cheeks will no doubt have a rosy burn to them once he makes it inside. But he’s not destined for all bad things to happen today, he thinks, when he realizes that a few of the man’s papers have slipped out from one of his bags and mixed with his own, a name presented clearly at the top, and a reason to meet him again.

Erik Lehnsherr, is printed in bold black text on a paper half folded into his genetics textbook. Upon flattening it out it’s discernible as a cover sheet, which Charles is rather pleasantly surprised to find has both a phone number and email on it. There’s an address as well, which he resolves to look up later, as he rushes up towards the lab that his team has booked, smiling sheepishly as Hank looks up from over a large array of petri dishes.

“You’re late today.” The other boy says. There’s nothing terribly incriminating in his tone, as Hank’s not really one for confrontation. It’s more of a bewildered statement, considering the fact that Charles is hardly ever late to anything, least of all scheduled lab time.

“I know, sorry! I had a bit of an...accident…”

“Huh…” Hank says softly, before jumping into an explanation on where he’s gotten in their joint research, making it rather apparent that he’s not slept very much, though Charles would be a hypocrite in that respect considering that he’s unlikely to get more than 4 hours of sleep on any given night.

That day he’s terribly distracted the whole time. He gets just the bare minimum of work done before his first class at 11, leaving him feeling as though he’s just wasted some precious time. He beats himself up over just how much valuable research time that he’s losing, borderline obsessing over some man that he’s only bumped into just the once. 

It’s not until sometime after lunch that he gets back to the labs. He bumps into Professor Howlett in the common rooms during dinner break, taking the time to just catch up and relax for a bit, despite the rather large biochemical engineering book that he has sat open by his side. Professor Howlett, despite his rather terse and somewhat off putting demeanor is actually quite caring. He usually stops by at least once every other week to make sure that both he and Hank are taking breaks and eating - something that they both tend to forget -.

Even after dinner his eyes keep straying back to his genetics book, wherein Erik’s cover sheet is carefully tucked away. Hank often has to say things multiple times in order to get his attention, and really, he ought to be much more embarrassed by his behavior than he is. He blames it on extended time in university eating away at his shame. Despite his distractions he still ends up staying in the labs until midnight. It’s turning in early, for them, but Hank doesn’t question him when he takes his leave, likely due to how he’s been acting.

The buses still run to the dorms until about 5 in the morning which he found out the hard way during the last semester. Tonight the driver is someone he’s unfamiliar with, so he just gives them a polite hello and moves as far to the back of the bus as he can get, holding himself up in the corner and popping in his earbuds. His eyes begin to droop, and he viciously rubs at them with closed fists, he just has to stay awake until he gets in his room.

His feet drag as he walks off at his stop, grasping the strap of his backpack as he makes his way to the stairs, his hallway, and ultimately his room. He lets his bag fall to the floor and fishes out his textbook, spreading it open with the cover sheet laid on top. He thought about calling the number just then before remembering that it was about 1 in the morning, and most people didn’t take kindly to being called at that time, sleep being disturbed and all that. Tomorrow, however, is Saturday so he resolves to call it in the afternoon...if he can wait that long.

He takes a long, hot shower, before slipping into a t-shirt and some flannel pants and crawling under the covers. He falls asleep with gentle stormy eyes staring back at him.

 


	2. The Texting Begins

Charles is startled awake by his phone buzzing in alert of a message, his arms flinging themselves out to either side as he started to sit up, hair sticking up every which way and slightly covering his eyes. 

“I-wha-?” He starts groggily, blinking a couple of times before actually having the mind to reach over and pick up his phone. 

The bright screen insistently portrays his sister’s name, her text messages getting increasingly irritated, shorter, and all caps as she tried fruitlessly to reach him. The clock up in the corner tells him that his plan to wait and call Erik in the afternoon wouldn’t be so difficult anymore considering that it was already nearly 1 o’clock. He drags a hand slowly down his face and flops back onto his pillow.

He brushes his finger over the screen.

_ Good morning! 9:00am _

__ _ Charles, you up? 9:15am _

__ _ You promised to take me to lunch this weekend 10:00am _

__ _ Charles 10:05am _

__ _ Charrrleeesssss 10:45am _

__ _ You owe me 11:15am _

__ _ WAKE UP 11:50am _

__ _ ARE U DEAD 12:00pm _

__ _ CHARLES 12:35pm _

__ His mouth twitches of its own accord at the messages. Knowing Raven, she’s really not all that worried considering that he never actually gets out enough to be in any real danger. Though, the first year he went away they did have quite a few arguments about the time that he was walking back at night which was, in part, responsible for his current familiarity with the bus schedule and drivers. He’ll admit that walking home at midnight during the weekdays, and as late as 4 on the weekends was perhaps not the smartest of ideas, and had given in much more quickly than he had with any of their other arguments.

_ Sorry Raven, forgot to set an alarm. What about tomorrow? Sent 1:10pm _

He gently slides his phone back on the bedside table, eyes cutting over to the other bed in his shared dorm. Said bed was usually occupied by Hank, though usually only for two to four hour periods. So he’s not surprised that the bed is made neatly up as though never being used the night before.

He changes into something at least moderately presentable, thanking the heavens for the shared coffee machine in the main room. Hank has left a small k-cup beside the machine, and what was probably a freshly baked muffin around breakfast time. Charles smiles a popos the cup in before taking a wolfing bite of the muffin. His phone is heavy in his pocket, itching to make a burning hole so that he might have to call Erik sooner. As he sits down at his computer, a daily morning routine, he wants to hit himself over the head for how much he’s anticipating calling a man that he doesn't even know, like he’s head over heels even though they’ve hardly even said a word to each other. 

He shakes his head and tries not to think all too much while he eats, giving his brain some more time to fully wake up from it’s slightly more loopy sleep state. Netflix is easy enough to open and pull to the side for something to listen to as he loads his research and, subsequently, his thesis. It’s not nearly as done as he’d like it to be, and he lost precious work time yesterday. He dives in, making changes, additions, taking things out, using his love of literature to help him craft things comprehensively.

It’s nearly three by the time he looks back at his phone, riddled with a new set of messages from Raven that he’s completely ignored somehow in his complete concentration.

_ Alright, but set an alarm this time! 1:25pm _

_ Plus I get to choose where we go 1:27pm _

_ How are you doing? 1:30pm _

_ Like how is the research and Hank and stuff  1:31pm _

_ Did you fall back asleep? 1:55 _

_ Text me when you wake back up 2:15pm _

He drummed his fingers twice against the tabletop and lets out a low hum before responding.

_ Still holding a torch for him, are you? 2:55pm _

He teases. She’s had a crush on Hank for as long as she’s known him. But the poor boy, bless him, wouldn’t see someone’s interest in him coming from a mile away. She’s done everything short of screaming, “date me!” at him. Charles finds it all terribly amusing, but approves of the two being together as Raven’s big brother. Now if only Hank would get the message, not that he’s going to go out of his way to help her get a boyfriend. She’s still his little sister after all, and she doesn’t need a boyfriend. He, however, he things as he stares down at his phone, could most definitely use one.

He stands up and wonders back to his room, pulling out Erik’s cover sheet and entering his number into the messaging application. He’s got far too much anxiety to call the man, so hopefully a text will do.

_ Hello, _ he starts,  _ I’m the guy who bumped into you yesterday. I got your number from some papers that you dropped. I figure that you might want them back? Let me know a good time and place, or an address and I’d be happy to return them. -Charles sent 3:05pm _

__ He presses the send button before he can think too much, throwing his phone back towards his bed before nearly running back towards the kitchen and living area. The apartment feels terribly lonely with no one else around. Perhaps he ought to talk Hank into getting a cat… He shakes his head and walks back over to shut down his computer and wash out his cup. Once he’s all done with that he figures that he’s given ample time for response, though every step back towards his room sends a new group of butterflies fluttering about his stomach.

Maybe he shouldn’t check just yet. Maybe he ought not have sent the man a message at all. Maybe it was bit too much, too forward, too creepy. By the time he’s had that last thought he’s already at the end of the bed, staring down at the phone like it’s a tarantula sitting in the middle of his bed. As though sensing his gaze the phone buzzes ominously, causing him to jump.

There are two notifications, and as soon as his eyes take in the upper case E he swerves to Raven’s text back.

_ No! I just wanted to know how my big brother’s doing is that so hard to believe? 3:28pm _

__ He rolls his eyes to himself.

_ Yes, considering she’s never shown any interest before. Sent 3:29pm _

__ He just scrolls up and down their conversation for a few minutes, putting off looking at Erik’s text for as long as possible before deciding that it was terribly childish of him to do so, and pulling up the new text window.

_ Hello, Charles. Thank you for letting me know. I assume that since we take the same bus we live nearby. I’d be free to meet at the coffee shop on 46th tomorrow if it suits you. -Erik Lehnsherr 3:18 _ pm

He knows that he’s losing it when his first internal response is to think, “ _ is that a date? _ ” He shakes his head- as opposed to smashing it against the wall, which altogether might be the best option -and responds.

_ I’d be just fine with that. Perhaps around one or so if that’s alright? Sent 3:35pm _

He just stares at the message as it sends, and then proceeds to simply sit there, waiting for a pixelated response. He’s so intently fixed on it that his eyes follow it when it gets bumped up by the other man’s response.

_ Sounds good. See you then. 3:36pm _

Without thinking he lets out a small noise that might be confused for something like a squeak. Dear God, he is so screwed...


	3. The Night Stretching On

The day as a whole after texting Erik is rather uneventful. He gets a bit more work on the outline of his thesis done, and Hank appears at some time with steaming bags of dinner. They plop down on the sofa and turn on the Big Bang Theory, a guilty pleasure of theirs. He’s halfway through a mouthful of chow mein when his phone buzzes again. His adrenaline spikes for a moment before the screen turns on, Raven’s name is front and centre on the screen.

_ What time do you want to grab lunch? 7:15pm _

__ It’s only a slight let down, but he really ought to have known better.

_ Sometime before one? Sent 7:15pm _

__ Perhaps that was too-

_ Oooooh, why? 7:15pm _

-revealing. Maybe a terse response will throw her off, though knowing Raven...

_ Because I have plans then. Sent 7:16pm _

__ _ Like date plans? 7:16pm _

__ He wishes. Charles lets out a low sigh and shoves another forkful of food into his mouth.

_ No, Raven. Sent 7:17pm _

__ _ Boo, you’re no fun. 7:17pm _

__ “I’m going to bed.” Hank announces quietly.

Charles startles a bit at the actual verbal sound, before looking up from where his eyes have been glued to his screen. 

“Alright.” He blinks a couple of times before actually being able to process the correct words to say in response. “Waking up early tomorrow?”

Hank nods. “I’ve got an odd time in at one of the specialist labs to work on my side project.”

Charles perks up nearly instantly. Hank has a fabulously fantastic mind, and he’s come up with some really wonderful ideas. He’s quite a wiz with blueprints, technology, and science. He’s able to put together all of the little pieces and Charles is more than happy to fill in any of the gaps, and often to try out the pieces and the whole. He’s actually ecstatic to try out this newest idea meant to enhance the brainwaves.

“That’s wonderful! Let me know if you need me to do anything. I’ll be out for lunch with Raven, and a bit after but otherwise I should be free.”

The boy smiles, pushing his glasses up his nose, looking down, and nodding. 

“Alright, I’ll let you know.”

Charles flashes his a brilliant smile as he leaves the room before his eyes fall back to the buzzing phone in his hand.

_ Guess I’ll just have to weasel it out of you at lunch ;) 7:30pm _

__ _ Please leave it Raven. I’m going to take a shower now and go to bed, I’ll see you tomorrow. Sent 7:30pm _

__ Of course, that’s not completely true, considering that he likely won’t be showering and going to bed for hours yet, regardless of whether he actually ends up doing anything productive or not, but he has to say something to shake her off that trail. He should have known that she would react that way. Honestly, he does the very same to her whenever she mentions such a thing, so he supposes that it’s only fair.

Charles slumps back and lets his phone fall onto the couch cushions, hand reaching up to tangle in his hair. What’s worse is that he really does wish that it was a date. Perhaps if he weren’t so in his own head, weren’t so prone to seclusion, he would have stopped choking on his own tongue long enough to actually say something intelligent to the man. Raven probably wouldn’t have beaten around the bush at all and gone straight for the kill with an offer for lunch or dinner. And he had been even presented with a second chance in giving the papers back, but it wouldn’t have been his style to take advantage of the situation. 

He’d always been one for science, straying away from the fairy tales he clung to in his youth, as he started his years at university in his teens, but he can’t help but think of them now. He feels like a princess, or prince in his case...or perhaps a lowly pauper having bumped into a prince. Like love at first sight, or at least a heady attraction. Just thinking of it has his hand falls down to rub heavily down the front of his face. But fairy tales are just that. Fluffy nonsense meant to capture the imagination, nothing near reality… Maybe he really ought to go to bed early, if he’s entertaining thoughts like these. It’s delusional, drunken, and full of longing that had his chest aching in a way that he’s never experienced before.

Right. He closes his laptop after checking the most recent saves to make sure he won’t lose his “progress”. He’ll go to bed early to clear his head, and maybe a shower, though he doesn’t really need one. Why not continue his superfluous indulgence just a bit longer, he did have a bit of a thing for long, scorching hot showers. 

In the end, it’s just what he needs, and he’s left feeling refreshed and back to normal, enough so that he grabs his laptop from the living room and props it up on his legs after sliding into bed. With nothing else getting done he gets a surprising amount of editing and formatting done, getting so preoccupied that it’s nearly one in the morning when his eyes venture to the clock in the lower right hand corner. He blinks owlishly a couple of times before saving and putting the laptop on the side table. 

There’s a low light from the streetlamp filtering in through the window, and he slides down until the light’s no longer in his eyes, only now he’s wide awake. His phone had migrated into his room at the same time as his laptop, and is now sitting face down on the small wooden surface. He looks over one edge of the bed, eyeing Hank’s sleeping form, before rolling back over to look at his phone. Hank’s a light sleeper, and if his phone had buzzed- while he wouldn’t have noticed, being in his deep work state - Hank surely would have woken and moved around at the very least, if not quietly shaken him from his focus to let him know that he had a new message. Knowing this does not keep him from reaching over -tilting the phone in the over direction to avoid the bright light- and checking his messages again. 

Of course, just as he thought, there’s nothing new, but Erik’s name makes something in his stomach flutter. He thinks then, that perhaps he really ought to go to sleep, because then tomorrow would come sooner…

It’s not long after his phone hits the table again that he’s completely passed out. 


	4. Lunch with Raven

He groans lowly as light assaults his eyelids, and snuggles down underneath his warm cocoon of blankets. He’s just on the edge of sleep him his phone buzzes. There’s a moment in which he very seriously considers ignoring it, but his brain kicks in just enough to remind him that if he doesn’t wake up soon he may sleep into his lunch date with Raven and subsequent meeting with Erik. That’s enough to have him shooting up, blankets half falling towards the end of the bed, and half sliding off to the floor. Even without looking in a mirror he can tell that his hair is sticking up every which way, and he’s somehow managed to slide one arm out of his shirt so it’s become more of a terribly short toga than a shirt.

It’s a bit of a stretch to get his phone from this position but he makes do. Though rather than a text from Raven, or possibly even a text from Erik saying that he won’t be able to make it, and maybe could Charles just mail him the papers, it’s a text from Hank.

_ Hey Charles, I remembered that you said something about going out to lunch with Raven today and I wanted to make sure that you got up in time. I also won’t be able to have you over to the lab today, I haven’t gotten far enough yet, but I might have some things to show you tonight. 11:00am  _

A smile makes its way onto his face. Really, he’s terribly lucky to have Hank in his life, the boy’s far too sweet for his own good. He shoots back a short thank you before sliding out of bed. He spends far too long staring at his clothes. Not thumbing through them, or pulling things out, just staring at them, at too much of a loss to actually try and pick anything out. Raven was always the more fashionable of the two of them, and had actually picked out his clothes for school dances and family parties. He ends up just putting on a cobalt button up to enhance his eyes and a trusty pair khakis that have never done him wrong. 

The clock on his phone proudly proclaims that it’s now 11:28, and that he really shouldn’t eat anything, and should get going in at least the next 15 minutes or he’ll be late to lunch. That being noted his stomach chooses that very moment to make itself known quite loudly. He decides then that perhaps at least a good cup of tea won’t take too long or mess all too much with his appetite. 

Charles sits at the table with a piping hot cup of breakfast tea and thumbs through the feed on his phone. There’s nothing much of interest, some cute animals, some nice art, lots of different conjectures. He drains the tea easily with only minimal mouth scorching, all with 5 minutes to spare. He smiles to himself, allowing the small victory before heading off to lunch early, remembering to grab a satchel to array Erik’s papers in. The restaurant of choice is well within walking distance, but he’d much rather been early rather than late, especially after completely missing their last scheduled time. 

He’s rather pleasantly surprised by the weather outside. It’s nice and dry, though it is a bit overcast. Despite the clouds the air is nice and dry, with little threat of rain surprisingly enough. He pulls in a deep breath and pauses for a moment, just letting himself still in the sea of thoughts and worries that he’s surrounded himself with, he’ll have plenty of time to think about it during lunch and after. Suffice to say, after that the walk is rather calming, and well overdue. 

He nearly jumps out of his shoes when Raven sneaks up behind him just upon his arrival.

“Charles!” She half yells, throwing her arms up around his shoulders.

Really she’s luckily that he doesn’t head butt her with how much he startles, but her arms are loose enough to allow for the movement even as he turns to face her.

“Raven!” He only half admonishes, too happy to see her to actually be upset. Since she lives in New York their visits are usually limited to two times a school year, plus holidays and summer. That being said it’s still nearly second nature to wrap his arms back around her and pull her in closer.

“I was afraid I wasn’t going to see you this trip, and who knows when I’d get another chance to come to England.” She teases, pulling back to press a kiss to his cheek and pull him to the reception desk. 

The restaurant is just a little rundown pub that he’d found his freshman year, mostly out of pure desperation for cheap and easy food. He hadn't been expecting the food to be great, and the atmosphere to be quaint and warm as it was. The first time that Raven had visited he had dragged her there despite her many protests only to have her fall in love with it the same way that he had. Ever since it had become their restaurant. 

The waitress smiles at them as their seated, recognizing them and bringing their drinks without even taking an order. Charles's is thankful for something decaffeinated after the tea, and the inevitable tea and/or coffee that he’ll likely be having just after lunch. They order their usual right off the bat and Raven wastes no time at all bombarding him with questions, all the way from class related subjects to just what he was dreading.

“So, those plans you have after this…” Raven’s lips curl up mischievously. “Mind telling me a little bit about those.”

He lifts his shoulders a bit, letting out a heavy sigh.

“There’s not much to tell,” he starts, surprised at the amount of defensiveness in his own tone, “It’s just a meeting with someone to give him back some things.”

“So its a guy.”

He wishes he could bite off his own tongue.

“Maybe.”

“And? Is he cute?” She tries to continue, leaning forward slightly, even as their food arrives and is placed in front of them. 

Charles can feel heat begging to rise to the tops of his cheeks, images of Erik coming unbidden to his mind. The close up view of his features after their collision. 

“I fail to see how that has anything to do with this. It’s just a meeting to give something back, nothing more.” 

Except that he wishes so terribly that it was. Only one meeting and his mind has been so inundated with the thoughts of one man, enough to distract him from his work, something even the worst of his crushes have failed to do. 

“Right, that’s exactly what your face is saying.” She throws back, rolling her eyes upwards but backing off. “Just let me know how it goes, ’Kay? Anyway,” And she launches into a story about something going on at her own school. 

In that moment he’s incredibly thankful that she knows when to stop. She’s his sister and she’ll still push all of his buttons, but she’ll never intentionally push him over the edge. He lets a smile pull up the sides of his mouth and leans into her story, hoping that at least a bit of his thankfulness shows through, and letting himself be completely absorbed by what he’s being told to avoid the anxiety surrounding the preceding event.


	7. The meeting

It's 12:50 before he knows it, Raven actually being the one to point out the time with the captain kind of look in her eye that says that though she's currently dropped the issue, she’s not forgotten about it. He’s in too much of a tizzy at that point to actually care all that much about it, willing to take on the consequences of a mosey sister if it means that he’ll make it to his meeting with Erik on time. He practically sprints to the coffee shop, the satchel with the papers which made all of this possible thumping heavily against his upper thigh.

  
He arrives out of breath but five minutes early, and good thing too with how crowded it is. He spends three of those five minutes waiting for a table, and the other two having his knee jump and fingers tap at the table top as he waits for Erik to arrive. He tries to calm himself with empty reassurances, but it’s no good when he can tell the level of his own disingenuity. By the time that 1 o’clock rolls around he’s wondering if maybe Erik will blow him off, texting him later that he’s sorry he couldn’t come, robbing Charles of his one chance of seeing the man again.

  
His teeth pull in on his lip and nearly cut through when the man appears right on time. Erik walks confidently in, his shoulders back as though he owns the whole place, and face set into a blank mask that discourages contact. Despite that rather cold demeanor the man still somehow manages to be absolutely beautiful. His cheekbones are prominent, and his eyes are a brilliant, stormy gray. If he had already somehow fallen in love at first sight before, he can hardly explain how he feels in this moment, as though somehow falling all over again. Something flutters in his stomach, and his chest is tight.

  
It takes him a couple of moments to gather himself enough to raise his hand and wave the other man over, though he does eventually get there. He gets a slight smile for his troubles, sending his chest through a new set of contractions. Charles moves as gracefully as possible to his feet and offers his hand which is quickly enveloped in a hand much larger and warmer than his own.

  
“Charles, right?” Erik asks when their hands meet.

  
“I-yes. And you’re Erik.” Of course he is idiot. Would it be somehow possible for the floor to open up just them and swallow him whole?

  
Erik’s mouth twitches slightly. “Yes, that’s me.”

  
There’s a slight pause where neither of them really know what to say. Charles mentally scrambles, mouth opening once then twice.

  
“Would you-would you like something to drink?” He gestures towards the barista, trying his best not to look nervous, and glad that his hand doesn’t shake as it hovers in mid air.

  
Erik gives his head a slight nod, allowing himself to be silently led forward. Charles orders a simple chai tea and makes a mental note of Erik’s coffee order, just in case. He feels a bit more at ease after having a sip of tea and sitting down. Tea is like home in a cup, warm, comforting, and rejuvenating.

  
“Thank you for texting me.”

  
The words are so abrupt that Charles has to take a moment after nearly choking on a sip of tea.

  
“I-yes, of course!” He erupts a bit too forcefully, pulling his satchel to the front so that he an pull out the other man’s papers. “Anyone would have done it.”

  
He pushes the papers forward, trying to smile reassuringly and hoping that he isn't failing miserably as he tries to play it cool. He’s all jittery nervousness. In person Erik’s even more attractive and gentle than he had been in Charles’s brief memory and it’s very seriously messing up his ability to function as a human. He can hardly believe he’s so completely lost his cool, falling so hard so quickly was not something that he did. Usually it took him months to years to form a crush let alone have such an immediate attachment that all waking moments begin to be consumed by daydreams. It was a little bit scary to be honest.

  
Erik hums as he takes the papers, and Charles fervently hopes that when his breath slightly catches a their fingers brush together that it’s not something noticeable or audible. And perhaps it's just his hopeful imagination that their fingers remain in contact for longer than I strictly necessary.

  
“I’m not so sure about that. However, I’m glad that you did. I need this for a project this week, and printing it out again would have been doable but very inconvenient.”

  
That’s something he can latch onto.

  
“You’re an architect?” He asks, genuine interest slipping an and cooling off his heated bundle of nerves.

  
There’s a small flash of teeth as the other man’s lips quirk upwards.

  
“In training. This is my sixth year, and I’ll be taking the ARE this semester.”

  
“The ARE?”

  
Erik gives him a small nod. “The Architect Registration Examination.”

  
“And I suppose that that’s quite a big deal?” He questions, tilting his head to the side slightly at attention.

  
Though the other man seems grateful and kind he also seems a bit uncomfortable. The kind of uncomfortable that comes with the introverted worker like Hank or himself at certain times. His face softens and he leans back slightly to give Erik more room.

  
Those gray eyes shine over with what Charles nearly immediately recognizes as passion. Erik begins to explain then all about architecture school, and what the test is, and what the papers are for.

  
Charles's body slowly shifts forward of its own volition, leaning into the conversation and propping his arm up onto the table as the conversation beings to flow more easily on its own.


	8. Semi-date?

At some point Charles had begun to speak of his own work in genetics, his mouth running off with no tomorrow in sight. It’s not terribly unusual considering the sheer amount of passion that he has for the subject, however, it does usually seem to scare people away. Once that line of thought beings to actually catch up with him he can feel himself stagger to a stop, words skipping and tapering off as he begins to shy away.

“Oh, I’m really sorry, that must have been terribly boring…” Charles feels his shoulders beginning to hunch over in on himself, waiting for the usual sort of response.

_ What a nerd. Couldn’t you have stopped talking for at least a second? Where does he get all that air from? Could his ego take up any more space? _

Minds can be terribly loud when being judgmental, and he’s caught more than his fair share of thoughts thrown in his direction when he loses himself in conversation. It’s a bad habit, and a partial protection device, but he can’t help it. 

He’s completely unprepared for the complete dismissal.

“Not at all.” Erik begins. He sounds kind, though his face is more of a blank slate than anything. However, Charles is beginning to think that perhaps Erik’s emotions may be veiled, only showing in small bits though things like the quirked smiles he’d been given earlier. “I won’t pretend to understand everything that you’ve said, but it’s obvious that you’re passionate about it, and I can’t deny that it’s fascinating.”

Charles binks once, twice. “Really?”

Something in his chest is tightening, and his stomach feels as though there’s a knot tying and re-tying itself. No one outside of his programme, besides perhaps Hank, had ever shown an interest in that particular level of his work. He wonders, for a moment, if Erik would be at all receptive to his theories on the X-gene as well as his own mutation. 

For a moment something flashes in Erik’s eyes, something that looks a lot like amusement. 

“Yes. I may not be into the sciences, but it would be difficult for anyone to deny the importance of the future of our species.”

A spark of excitement shoots up Charles’s spine and he nods fervently. 

“Yes, yes exactly!” His eyes shimmer, alight with the turn that the conversation has taken, and the flash that he had seen before comes back into the eyes of the man across from him. If that amusement is completely at his expense he can’t really bring himself to care in that moment. But he can’t help the way that his heart sinks when Erik looks down at his watch, and the shine all but goes out like a flame enclosed under a glass dome. 

“I hate to cut our conversation short, but I have a meeting with a project group at 4:30, and it seems that this…” The man pauses for a moment as though searching for a word, something to call this- what Charles’s mind hopefully refers to as a semi-date. “Has lasted longer than I thought it would.”

Despite the fact that Charles feels as though he could spend the rest of the day just sitting here and talking, it’s not in his nature to complain...at least not to the subject of which his complaint revolves around. He sends a brief “sorry”, to a slightly confused Raven, who will likely be getting an earful later. She certainly asked for it though.

He takes a moment to fully compose himself, delighted by the faint waves of genuine remorse floating off of Erik. It’s a strong emotion to have pushed through his barriers, and if that isn’t allowed to give him hope he doesn't know what is. 

“I understand. I don’t want to keep you from getting to your meeting on time.” He sticks out his hand in a warm mimicry of their first meeting earlier. “It was wonderful getting to talk to you.”

There’s a slight quirk to Erik’s lips as his hand envelopes Charles's own once again.

“Likewise.” He says lowly, pulling his hand away. “Have a good rest of the day, Charles.”

He beams brilliantly as the other man beings to walk away, holding up a hand to wave a bit disjointedly. 

“You as well, Erik.”

He stands there grinning like an idiot for absolutely longer than necessary before he shakes himself enough to begin his walk back to the housing structure. As soon as he gets through the front door he falls back against it, sliding down the surface to the floor. When deems his hands to be stable enough,and no longer jittery with excess energy and nerves, he pulls out his phone.

_ Dear God Raven, I’m royally screwed. Sent 3:38 _


	9. Raven's Phonecall

_ Charles 3:40 _

_ What 3:40 _

_ What happened 3:40 _

Charles has his head cradled in the dip between his crossed arms where they’re propped up on his knees after he had pulled them into his chest when his phone buzzes. Part of him desperately doesn’t want to pick it up, telling him to just stay in this position until he slowly dies, but he knows that it’s Raven.

_ He’s amazing. Sent 3:45 _

_ He was interested in my work in genetics. Sent 3:45 _

Something that feels like a little fizz works its way up through his body just thinking about it. While that feels quite good, he still has half a mind to slap himself, and tell himself to pull it back together. He can’t be so far gone on someone he’s just met. He just can’t.

His phone buzzes.

_ Oh my God. 3:45 _

_ He’s a keeper 3:46 _

But he is.

_ You don’t even know. Sent 3:46 _

He’s only just sent the message when his phone starts to ring, bringing up Raven’s name in bold letters. He doesn't hesitate to take the call, putting it on speaker so that he can resume his curled up position.

“Charles, I can’t believe this.” Her voice sounds teasing, as though she’s very amused with the whole situation. “He didn’t nod off when you started talking about genetics?”

“Raven…” He groans out.

“I mean, jeez, he must be your soulmate.” She jokes.

However, something in that strikes him and he mumbles out. “I think he might be.” Not expecting the phone to pick it up. Though, being Charles, things are destined to not go his way.

There’s a brief pause.

“Are you serious?”

“I-well…”

“Oh my God, you are. Charles you’ve only just met the guy!”

“And I can’t stop thinking about him!” He counters, hackles rising as he begins to feel defensive.

“So, you have a crush! It’s not like you’re in love him.”

He remains quiet, unwilling to say anything one way or another. His chest tightens in betrayal.

“Charles no.” She says flatly. “There’s no way. You dated Moira for three years and never said I love you. There is absolutely no way that you meet this guy what? Twice? And already have feelings for him. It just doesn’t work like that.”

Logically he knows that she’s right, and any other time he’d be incredibly grateful for her talking some sense into him, but right now he feels terribly at odds. Though what she says is true, the way that he feels is contradicting nearly every statement but one, that he barely knows Erik. Never mind the light grasp he’s had on the man’s mind. That’s nowhere near the same as actually knowing someone.

“I don’t know, Raven, this is different…”

There’s a pregnant pause, stagnant enough that he can’t even hear her breathing on the other line. It’s terribly unsettling, especially not being able to feel her mind as they talk to one another, let alone hearing absolutely nothing at all.

“Okay. So suppose this is different. What’s his name?”

He hesitates for a second, unsure if Erik would really want his name thrown around like this, until he thinks himself silly because this is just his sister.

“Erik.”

“Last name.”

“Raven you are not looking him up and stalking him.”

“I am, and I will, even if I have to look through all of the Erik’s in the whole of England.”

He lets out a long suffering sigh, knowing that it’s true. He learned that much when he had started going out with Moira.

“Lehnsherr.”

“Alright. And what does this Mr. Lehnsherr do?”

He leans his head tilt back and knock against the wall, their conversation from earlier that day coming to him easily.

“He’s training to be an architect.”

“Respectable.”

“Raven-”

“Ah ah ah.” She chides, cutting him off. “And, dear brother, do you know if Mr. Erik Lehnsherr the training architect likes men?”

His eyes widen as he stares up at the ceiling. No, no he does not know that. He seemed comfortable at their...semi-date this evening, but that could have just been a friendly encounter. Oh God, he was starting to feel sick.

“No.” He finally gets out.

Raven hums. “I’ll see if I can make any headway on that.”

“Really?”

“Charles, if you already really like this guy as much as you seem like you do, then I’m going to find out as much as possible and we are going to go at this in a calm and calculated way so that you get the man of your dreams.”

He feels a bit silly when his eyes start to sting at that, but he can’t help but feel touched that she’d so quickly switch sides for him.Though he knows that she’ll remain protective, just as he is for her.

“Thank you…”

“What are sisters for?” She says nonchalantly, but he can hear her smile.

“I love you, Raven.” He says quietly

“I love you too, big brother.” She pauses for a second and there’s a barely audible voice in the background. It’s not surprising considering that she’s brought some friends along with her this trip. “I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you later okay?”

“Okay.”

“Bye, Charles.”

“Bye.”

The room falls into silence after the phone beeps to signal the end of the call. He sits in that silence for a few minutes before forcing himself to stand up. If he gets himself in the mood now he may be able to get some work done on his thesis before dinner time.

 


	10. The interested and the intrest

Hank’s alarm goes off at 6:30 Sunday morning. It’s a blaring siren that has Charles startling up and falling right off the side of his bed. This wouldn’t have been terribly unusual had it been a weekday, but on a weekend it leaves a now very awake Charles sitting in confusion.

“Hank?”

The other boy grumbles, slowly moving to turn off the alarm and rubbing his eyes as he reaches for his glasses on his bedside table. 

“Yes?” He asks, a yawn in his voice.

Charles presses the heels of his palms into his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Why are we awake?”

“Oh,” Hank pauses shortly, standing up and offering a hand. “I have another slot in that lab. I thought I told you last night?”

Charles accepts the hand and pops up to his feet, shaking his head.

“I must have thesis brain...” He murmurs, shaking himself.

“You want to come in with me?” Hanks inquires as he moves towards the bathroom.

Charles’s eyebrows climb up until they disappear under his brown, floppy fringe.

“I thought you weren’t far along enough?”

“I will be sometime near noon.”

Charles nodded, that sounded more plausible, “What about I drop by sometime after lunch, at one or two?”

He gets a confirming hum as Hank’s electric toothbrush begins to buzz away. He’s half tempted to fall back to his bed, finding his way back to the comforting dark clutches of sleep. However, now that he’s awake his mind has begun to race, meaning sleep won’t be coming easy any time soon. He reached into his closet and pulls out a solid button down and his white sweater, wiggling a little bit to get the folds to fall more organically.

He shuffles into the kitchen, yawning and trailing his fingers along the wall as he goes. For a moment he wishes that there had been someone to wake up to, someone that would share breakfast with him, because knowing Hank, he’ll be out the door before pancake batter even hits the griddle. Charles mentally shakes himself just as stormy gray eyes begin to worm their way into his thoughts. He settles on making pancakes or breakfast, glad for the quick mix that they keep stocked for indulgent breakfasts. Maybe he’ll make some extra so that Hank can have a pick me up when needed.

They don’t take long to make, but, as predicted, Hank is out the door before the delicious fragrance begins to permeate the air. He makes himself a tea and watches as the pancakes brown, thankful in that moment for his cooking skills no matter how menial they may be. He dresses the pancakes up with some chocolate chips, something which makes him squeak in delight when he finds them tucked away in the cupboard. 

He shoots Raven a quick picture of the breakfast for when she wakes up, teasingly rubbing it in her face while also giving an offer to feed her if she’d like. His thumb hovers momentarily over Erik’s name as it sits just below Hank’s in his messages, but decidedly turns the phone off for now and sets it on the table as he eats. 

There’s a low level thrumming in his veins as he thinks rather than focusing on his meal. Though it’d be far more advantageous to spend every waking moment thinking of his research, as he is usually wont to do, his mind of course strays to distraction in the form of one tall German man. Charles shovels another sugar laden bite into his mouth and rests his cheek on his hand. 

He’s interested in Erik, most definitely as more than friends. Usually it is up to the interested party to disclose such interest to the individual to which the interest is directed. Therefore this would leave any future planning up to him. If Charles were a braver man he would text Erik right then and there, asking him on a date. The chemistry he’d felt upon their second meeting had to be something that was shared, so it's unlikely that he’d be turned down without even a thought. Perhaps a more gentle, “I’m sorry, but I prefer women,” or maybe a “you’re not really my type.”  Regardless, he’s terribly hesitant to make a move, and therefore, he turns to his wing...girl.

_ Should I just, I don’t know, ask him out? Would that be too forward? Sent 7:50am _

When the script of the time sent shows up he knows that he won’t be getting an answer for at least another hour, and turns back to his meal, though he can’t shake the thoughts of Erik from his head. Maybe a little bit of Raven-level snooping would do him good. Charles may not be the best with computers, but he certainly knows how to utilize searches and do some web digging. And so, he picks up his phone once again, hunching forward slightly as he makes his cyber dive. 

 


	11. Should I make a move

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of sibling shmoop, because these two need some more love as siblings.

The name Erik Lehnsherr doesn’t bring up much automatically. There’s a handful of that or similar names on linkedin and facebook, so Charles goes to work on the former first. He does a good bit of scrolling before finding the right profile. 

Erik Lehnsherr. Graduate student at Oxford university. Oxford, England. Architecture.

He clicks in and scrolls down, looking through the profile in detail. Once he’s finished with linkedin he continues onto facebook, and ultimately just to a google search, which he gets in 5 pages deep before blinking screen spots out of his eyes. By this time what’s left of his tea has gone cold, and somehow his plate is completely empty, that and he has an unread text from Raven.

_ No, but I never thought you’d actually consider doing something like that or I would have suggested it from the get go. 9:15am _

He’s a bit miffed upon reading it, but he knows that it’s true. He’s never actually really considered doing such a thing before now. Perhaps that’s a sign of just how far in over his head he is. Either that or the mounting feeling of desperation to do something lest he lose a chance at the other man all together. 

_ What’s going on with you? 9:20am _

Charles frowns at his phone, and tips his head back so that he’s looking at the ceiling. He can’t answer that question, if he could than perhaps he wouldn’t be having such a hard time himself. He elects to put a pin in the question for later, pushing it aside as much as possible.

_ But what if he's not into men? Sent 9:21am _

_ Then he’ll let you know and you move on. I’ve done the same thing, and had men tell me they’re not interested. 9:21am _

_ Men, Raven? Sent 9:22 _

He sends back, feeling a sudden surge of protectiveness. 

_ Oh calm down, okay? This is about you. 9:22am _

_ If you’re serious, then I think that you should do it. I haven’t found anything about sexuality. They guy hardly has any social media at all. 9:23am _

He sighs and drags a hand down his face. 

_ I know. I may have been doing some digging of my own. Sent 9:23 _

_ My, Charles, am I rubbing off on you? 9:23am _

His lips quirk up slightly before falling again. There’s something twisting low in his gut, the familiar anxiety taking a hold of him. 

_ Raven, I'm serious. Should I really do this? Sent 9:24 _

There’s a few minutes of radio silence and he begins tapping his fingers against the table top, that knot of anxiety rising into his throat, making him feel as though he’s going to throw up. 

His phone begins to ring from its place in his hand, hovering just above the table top. He answers swiftly, pressing the small box up close to his ear like a lifeline. 

“Charles, you’re going to be okay.” Is the first thing that he hears, and he lets out a long shaky breath. “I’ve never seen you like this. You’ve really got it bad.”

He fights back a whimper that wants to bubble up. 

“I know...I don’t….” He struggles with the right words, leaning back heavily. 

“It’s just one guy. It’s not the end of the world. And if it’s meant to be it’ll happen.” She takes a short breath, blowing it out audibly, and he can feel her seriousness palpably. “And no matter what, you’ll never be alone. You have Hank right there, and you’ll always, always have me.”

“Thank you, Raven.” He lets out quietly. “I’m sorry I’m so...twisted up over this, I’ve just…I’m just…”

“It’s okay. Like I said, I’m going to help you all I can, but you know-” Her voice begins to take on a slightly mischievous tone. “If all goes well, I’m going to have to meet and approve of him before you’re actually allowed to date.”

His mouth twitches once, twice, before he lets out a little pearl of laughter. 

“I don’t know, I don’t want you to scare him away.” He teases back.

“Well if I scare him away then we’ll know he’s not worthy.”

He hums, the smile sticking on his face. 

“Raven?”

“Hm?”

“I really do love you, you know.”

“I know. And I love you too.”

They just take a moment in that, letting the words sink in in a comfortable yet weighted silence. Somehow, this whole thing has made them admit that more than once aloud already. Though it’s something that they theoretically both know, they don’t always say it, and being apart so long has left him appreciate her even more than he could have ever thought he would.

“Do you want to come over later?” He finally asks, breaking the silence.

“Only if I can have some of those pancakes.”

“You know I made extras.”

She lets out something of a maniacal laugh on the other end, and his face began to ache from how much he was smiling. 

“I’ll be over at…” There’s a brief pause during which he assumes that she’s looking at a clock. “10.”

He nods to himself, and his eyes search for a clock of his own. He ultimately has to pull down his phone for a moment to check. 9:29.

“Then we’ll talk in person, yeah?” She finishes.

“Sounds good. I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye, oh brother of mine.”

He rolls his eyes upward slightly, but he doesn’t stop smiling.

“Goodbye, Raven.”

He stares at his phone for a couple of minutes, and then he begins to draft a message.

_ Erik, It’s Charles again… _

 


	12. THE Message

Raven really hits the mark on 10 o’clock, hungry and brandishing a notebook and ballpoint pen.

“I was going to bring my laptop,” She says as she pushes past him towards the table, sitting expectantly, “but your wifi sucks, and I wanted to feel like a spy.”

He can’t resist the urge to smile at her antics, grabbing her a plate of heated pancakes and toppings to boot.

“So, agent Darkholme-”

“Mystique.” She butts in, looking deadly serious as her eyes flash their natural glowing yellow.

He raises an eyebrow, but goes along with it anyway.

“Alright, Mystique, where does this case start?”

Raven shoves nearly a whole pancake in her mouth before opening the notebook with an over exaggerated flourish. 

“Our subject is one Erik Lehnsherr. Graduate student of Architecture at Oxford University.”

He nods as a go ahead, this much he’s obsessed over the past two days. 

“He’s 32. Little bit old for you don’t you think.” She comments with eyebrows arching up.

“I’m 22!” He shoots back.

She holds up her hands in surrender but still makes a comment about that still being 10 years more than she’d like.

“He’s at least some part German, because his home is listed in turns as Munich, Dresden, and Hamburg,” which she says with such a sharp “a” that he struggles not to wince at it.

“He does have a bit of a Germanic accent,” thinking back on it, it’s a testament to how unfocused that he was to have not taken that into account. Not that it matters terribly, though it is another attractive factor, despite the fact that some people wouldn’t consider German to be a beautiful language, Charles is one to appreciate all languages.

She nods, checking off the line that says _“German?”_

“He doesn’t really have much else online except for some really nice specs and layouts in his portfolio. He’s seriously talented, Charles.”

There’s a fluttering in his chest at her words, something akin to pride blossoming there. He can feel his cheeks begin to heat as he thinks on that. He’s only known the man for a couple of days and he already wants to brag about him. This is bad. This is very, very bad.

“So, nothing else of interest?”

Raven finishes off the last of her pancakes, pouring a sizable amount of syrup straight into her mouth before answering.

“He plays soccer sometimes on a local intramural team.”

“Football.”

“Whatever.”

Then the picture registers and his mind short circuits at the thought of Erik in short sleeves and football shorts.

“Okay, ew. I don’t even want to be in the same room when you’re making that face, let alone in direct line of it.”

He shakes himself, blushing madly, and pressing cool hands to his hot cheeks.

“Sorry, sorry. Do you know where?”

She flips a page in the notebook and drags the dull end of the pen down a row of seemingly random and useless information. The pen smacks the page and she turns it slightly towards him so that he can read the name of a field that’s not all to far away.

“Annnnnd,” She trills, nearly wiggling in her seat. “Here are the times that they meet.”

He scans the days and times, trying not to inhale sharply as he sees them.

“They have a practice tomorrow from 9 to noon.”

Raven lets out a devious laugh, “Perfect time for someone to get taken to lunch after a hard workout!”

He sits silently for a moment, and taps his fingers on the table a couple of times.

“I don’t know...It might work. I was actually writing up a text while you were on the way over, but sending it is a completely separate thing from writing it.”

Raven rolls her eyes in a big motion.

“Then I’ll send it for you. Now let me see it.” She says making grabby hands at him as he reluctantly hands his phone over.

He wants to bury his head in his arms as she begins to read it out loud. After all, he’s only deleted versions of it 10-20 times as he read it to himself.

“Erik, It’s Charles again. I hope I’m not bothering you, but I wanted to let you know that I really enjoyed meeting up with you yesterday, and was hoping we might be able to do it again.”

There’s a short pause in which he inadvertently holds his breath as though waiting for something terrible to happen.

“That’s actually not bad. Let’s just add the time and place on there. We’ll say just a little before he gets out of practice so maybe it’ll give you a chance to see him all hot and sweaty beforehand.”

“Raven!” he squeaks, actually ducking down as though he can hide in his shirt as his held breath leaves him all at once.

“What? I would, he’s super hot.”

He makes a sound not unlike a dying cat, and shrinks down further.

“So, we’ll add on, _“Maybe tomorrow at 11:45 at Oli’s Thai?”_ "

He gives a small nod and Raven makes an affirming noise.

“If he doesn’t like Thai, then too bad. He’ll have to choose somewhere else. Anddddd-send!”

He pops up like the weasel in that old nursery rhyme at that, eyes wide as he launches toward her in a grab for hi phone.

“Wait wait wait wait wait!”

Raven laughs as he pries the phone from her grip, grasping it so tightly that his knuckles go white as he eyes the small _“sent”_ beneath the message.

“No.” She drawls out. “ _Now_ we wait.”


	13. Baby steps

The day goes by sluggishly, inching along minute by minute as he obsesses over a text that still hasn’t come. Raven stays over for a bit, snuggling up to him on the couch as they watch a trashy movie, making fun of it at every turn, but both secretly enjoying it. After about half an hour she confiscates his phone, shoving it into her back pocket so he won’t try to go for it. He just leans his head on her shoulder then, and wills himself to just get absorbed in the moment. 

Ultimately they end up watching three and a half movies before Raven has to go meet up with her friends. She offers for him to come with, but he knows that it wouldn’t really be any fun for her to have her older brother “cramping their style”, so he declines. She looks at him for a few moments after before returning his phone, which he silently sets on the table. He really ought to be doing work anyway.

After she leaves he finishes the rest of the movie mindlessly, drifting off now and then until it ends. Then he tries to open his laptop and work on his research and thesis, he really does, he just can’t get anything to happen. He sits and sits and gets maybe 10 sentences down in the span of an hour.

Charles gives out a loud groan and brings his hands up to rub at his eyes before they fall back on his phone, sitting tauntingly on the table in front of him. Against his better judgment he bends forward and opens it. There is, of course, no new text message, and he sets it back down before leaning back heavily and turning his eyes towards the ceiling. He had a knotted feeling low in his gut, and his chest was starting to tighten.

His hand goes to rub at his chest as though to alleviate the pain, though it does nothing at all. Ultimately, he decides there’s nothing for it but some tea and a nap. He intends for both things to only take maybe an hour to an hour and a half together. However, plans hardly ever come together for Charles.

When he wakes up the light filtering in from outside is considerably darker, and the alarm that he set on his phone is on nearly its fifth snooze, the time proclaims it to be almost three hours later and he’s got several new messages. He snaps up to a sitting position, hunching so far over his phone that his hair touches the comforter of his bed as it flops forward.

The first of the text is from Raven, just saying that she met up with her friends okay, and to text her when he gets something back from “that German hunk.” Hank has texted to let him know that the prototype is ready and he wants Charles to test it out, and that they have a time in the labs tomorrow after school ends, but they’ll have to postpone some of their other research. He shoots back a quick text saying that that sounds great, quickly typing it out so that he can shift his attention back to the last of the new messages.

The name Erik Lehnsherr is at the top of the contacts that he’s texted with, and he just sits and stares, thumb hovering just above. 

What if Erik is one of those men that gets offended when another man makes a pass at them in some way? What if he counts it as just another invitation for a friendly dinner? What if he uses his football practice as an excuse to beg off of the whole thing?

He shakes his head, hitting his forehead on his phone as he does, though he just counts it as another way to clear his head and force himself to just open the damn text.

_ Charles, I’d be happy to meet up with you again. However, I am busy tomorrow up until noon. If you’re still available for lunch then, I’d be happy to go. 1:35pm _

__ He bites down hard on his lip and takes a couple of deep breaths, holding back what would no doubt be something akin to a squeal if it ever saw the light of day.

_ That sounds great. _

He lifts his eyes to the ceiling for a moment. He has a lecture at 2:30, but that should still give them plenty of time in case they get talking again like they did at the coffee shop. Then, he thinks, perhaps he ought to take a small chance, because passing up any possible opportunity on seeing Erik in a football uniform would be a international crime.

_ May I inquire as to what you’re busy with beforehand? Sent 2:15 _

He swallows thickly, feeling a bit like his tongue is swelling up and trying to choke him. There’s a small twinge along his ribs, the constricting feeling pulling him together tightly. Charles shifts and leaves the bed, walking to the living room and plopping himself down on the couch with his computer and pressing along the tight areas as though to alleviate the physical ramifications of his anxiety.

There’s a short buzz and he nearly startles, as he wasn’t expecting any prompt responses.

_ I have a football practice at the Napper’s Arable football pitch. 2:15pm _

A fluttering feeling runs through him, something that’s becoming more and more familiar.

_ Oh, Cool. _

Smooth, Charles. Smooth.

_ Mind if I come and meet you there, then we can walk to the restaurant together? _

There’s a second in which he highly considers deleting the whole thing and leaving it be as is, but then he hears something that sounds suspiciously like Raven’s voice telling him to put some hair on his chest and just do it.

_ Sent 2:16 _

Almost immediately the ellipsis that alerts the user that someone is responding pops up, goes away, pops up again, goes away again, and then pops up a final time. Honestly, he feels like a ton of bricks just dropped on his chest and shoulders.


	14. Dating and Relationships

_ I don’t mind at all, as long as you don’t mind that I’ll not be nearly as put together as I usually am. 1:18 pm _

__ Blue eyes grasp onto the screen like a life line, blinking once then again just to make sure that the message is, in fact, real, and not a hallucination. He realises, after a moment, that he’s been holding his breath, and lets it out slowly. 

Surely this spells some mutual interest, there’s no way that it could mean anything else. Charles may be oblivious at times, especially in regards to things like relationships, but this really seemed like the proverbial brick wall of which he would slam into. 

_ Of course not!  _

__ He sucks in, his lips being pulled in between his teeth.

_ I’ll see you around noon :) sent 1:20 _

__ Perhaps the smiley was a bit too much, to childish or silly, but it’s over and done with. He bites down on his lips, and reflexively throws his phone onto the coffee table and jumps up, skittering into the kitchen for a cup of tea and a snack. The whole time his foot is tapping erratically and his fingers keep tapping hollowly against the table top, making his teacup shake just slightly on its saucer. He hardly even tastes the food, just making his way mindlessly through the next half hour, or is it an hour?

Either way, he eventually makes it back to the living area, and falls back onto the couch, eyeing his phone speculatively before picking it back up. Erik’s name is up on his most recent, lit up with a new message that he very nearly opens out of pure excitement before tapping Raven’s name first and shooting her a quick update to let her know that Erik texted him back.

_ Meeting him at the football pitch at 12. Sent 2:00 _

It’s simple and short, but it gets the point across that everything went well. That everything went even better than planned, really. Then he slides over to Erik’s message, unable to keep himself from vibrating with pure unmitigated excitement as he takes in the newest text.

_ Looking forward to it 1:55pm _

He throws his bed back and let out an embarrassingly long and high pitched squealing noise. He knows that he probably seems like a lovesick teenager, but, he thinks as he pulls his legs up so that his knees can knock against his chest, he’s never been in love before, and perhaps love inspires such feelings and actions. 

His phone buzzes again and he pulls up his messages to see Raven echoing his feelings via a multitude of gibberish pieces in increasing intensity. He laughed fleetingly at it and texted back an “ikr”, tapping his feet as a humming energy pulsed through his veins.

Charles tries to think back to the last date that he had, his mind running back over his last relationship. He had dated several girls in high school, and flirted with even more. He’d only figured out his burgeoning interest in men after he’s left his rather suffocating “home”, embracing it wholly in his flirtatious nature, though he’s not had but the one relationship with Moira in college.

Charles and Moira had met in Freshman year, hitting it off right away. They’d begun to hang around at nearly all times, gravitating easily towards one another. However, Charles had been terribly young that first year, right around 16, while Moira was just turning 19. For a while it had been something of a familial-like relationship, but that began to shift quickly enough. Lingering touches, lack of personal space, constant attention, and increasing jealousy. Ultimately, Moira made the first move, sealing the deal with a kiss. They continued to date through much of their undergraduate terms, and their relationship was rather healthy if not a bit removed. In fact, looking back at it the only difference between their friendship and romantic relationship had been the levels of intimacy. It was mostly do to this that he believes that their relationship crumbled. When Moira got the chance to study back in Scotland she hardly hesitated to break off their relationship. However, they parted rather amicably and still talked fairly often, meeting up when possible.

In fact, he pulled up her name in his phone and pressed the dial button. She picks up fairly quickly.

“Charles!” She exclaimed.

A smile breaks out across his face as he slings his arm around his legs, holding them together and rocking slightly.

“Hello, Moira. How are you?”

“Doing well,” she drawls out, the sound of some shuffling as though perhaps she were sitting at her desk with some papers, “Lots of work of course, but that’s to be expected. How about you?”

“The same. Working on research and my Thesis.”

“You sound more perky than usual.”

“Do I?”

“Like you’ve made a breakthrough in research, or met a cute girl.”

He straightens up slightly, cheeks pinking and stammering.

“Doesn’t sound like a breakthrough in research then.”

“I-well...I wouldn’t-”

“What’s her name?”

“It’s not-Moira!”

“Oh come on, Charles. It’s not like I’m going to be jealous or anything, besides I could use a good bit of juicy gossip.”

“It’s hardly gossip if I’m the one telling you.”

“Evading the question.”

“Fine. Erik.”

“Well, she sounds very unique.”

Charles snorts at her quick response.

“Of course it’s not a girl, but you knew I liked men as well.”

“Yeah, yeah. You say that like we didn’t spend hours looking at hot men together.”

“Yes well, we may be going on a date tomorrow.”

“May?”

He pauses for a moment. “Well, it wasn’t exactly explicit, so there is a chance that it may just be a friendly meeting.”

“Charles?”

“...yes.”

“You’re hopeless.”

He blinked a couple of times. “What do you mean?”

“It took you a good four months to acknowledge anything between us, and even then I as the one who had to take the first step. You can’t just keep going into things thinking that maybe it might be something. Do you really like this guy?”

“More than I ought to probably.”

“Then make your intentions clear and just ask the bloody guy out, or even just kiss him for God’s sake!”

“Moira-”

“Charles, I love you terribly but you can be horribly dense and oblivious when it comes to relationships, so just trust me on this, alright?”

“I…” He trails off, leaning forward slightly so that his chin rests on the tops of his knees. He knows that it’s likely that she’s right, considering that she tends to be right about most things. She’s also his longest standing relationship to date, and if anyone were going to know how he acted in romantic situations it would be her -and perhaps Raven-. “Okay.”

“Good, keep me posted. Now, aside from that fill me in on all that’s been going on in Oxford in my absence.”


	15. 305

Charles and Moira easily pass an hour or two talking about nothing and everything at the same time, something they’d always somehow had a knack for with one another. At some point Moira gets called away by her research group and he says goodbye, feeling much more confident about tomorrow. He’s barely even hung up when his phone rings again.

“Hello?” He answers automatically, phone having been so close to his face that he didn’t even catch the ID. 

“Charles?” And that’s Hank’s overly hesitant voice.

“Hank! How is the research going?”

“Really well, actually that was why I was calling. I just wrapped up some finishing touches on the amplification-based prototype and could use someone to help me test it out.”

Charles began nodding to himself excitedly. Hank had been working on these plans for almost a year now, leaving blueprints scattered over various surfaces both in the bedroom and living room, much to his delight. Hank was a veritable genius in his field, there was no two ways about it, and it was easily evident when looking at any form of his work whether drawn or written. 

“Of course, I’d be happy to.”

“Good. Okay. Good. Cool. I’ll see you soon then?”

“Which lab are you in?”

“Oh! 305, the one with the long windows.”

“Ah, that one’s nice, how’d you ever land that?”

“Lot’s of waiting and my professor is backing my project so she had some say in it as well, especially since the scenery will help with the testing.”

Charles hums lowly. “Alright, I’ll be over in about half an hour.”

“Okay.”

There’s a pause of a few moments, where he waits for Hank to say something else, but nothing comes. 

“Alright...Bye.” He drags out, just to make sure, but there’s no interjection so he hangs up, smiling fondly to himself. 

He thinks that maybe Raven would be good for Hank. She’s always been very “out there” and well-spoken. In fact, she often pushed Charles to get out into the world and to speak more -though the success of the pushing is still up for discussion. But perhaps with a more extroverted influence some of Hank’s almost instinctual wairyness might slowly wean away. Reguardless, he pulls on a heavy-knit cardigan and slings his satchel over his shoulder before taking off in the direction of the sciences building.

It’s a bit of a labyrinth of walkways towards the labs, but it’s familiar and easy to the point that his mind begins to wander. It’s easy for him to fall into a fantastical mindset, his brain pulling up Erik’s lithe figure on the football pitch. His auburn hair mused and sweaty, grey eyes piercing in their intensity as he rushes the goal. The silky loose fabric of the football jersey sticking to his chest in a sweat-darkened patch. The shorts clinging mid-thigh to thick muscles, curving deliciously around his ass, and tapering in at a thin waist.

He’s so caught up in the imagery that he nearly walks into the pole at the base of the middle railing on the steps, toes hitting the metal with a gong-like ring before he jumps back and blinks rapidly. One of his hands goes up to run down his face in a slow drag that really would have been more effective had his hand been filled with cold water or alternatively a hot washcloth. 

He takes all of the stairs two at a time despite having short legs. He can’t stand the long slug of taking just one at a time. The power of his strides has his feet skidding momentarily as he hits the hall floor’s linoleum tiles. The rooms behind closed doors are mostly darkened and locked up until he gets to 305, which emanates the yellowish tint of a school room that seems to follow one all the way up from primary school even into a near professional existence.

Charles raps his knuckle on the doors a couple of times as a warning before letting himself in. He’d made the mistake of simply bursting into one of Hank’s lab sessions before, ending in a poorly timed concussion and a singed sweater. 

Hank’s off to one side of the room, where all of the long tables have been pushed away from the centre. There’s a small ring-like metal piece set up in their place, vibrating with a humming energy that set his nerves alight. 

“Hank.” He calls out, shifting his way through a narrow passage between two tables to get up to where the younger man seems to have set up the remaining equipment.

“Charles!”

Charles nearly snorts at the sight of Hank’s thick glasses pressed tightly against his face behind the protective plastic goggles.

Hank waves him closer, picking up a dome shaped piece of metal, “This is the headpiece. I’m not sure exactly what size your head is, but it should fit.”

He reaches out as Hank pushes the piece forward, turning it around in his hands a couple of times as he explores it with his eyes, before lifting it to his head. The large metal “helmet” settles about halfway down his ears and tilts over his eyes, obscuring his vision.

“Well,” He starts, lifting up a hand to lift the piece up above his eyes, “It’s not too small, but I have a feeling we may need something to keep it in place.”

Hank nods, bringing up elastic straps and velcro and going straight to work, looping the pieces around and through small openings, stretching the sticky strands under his chin and up around the other side.

“Do you think I could have a brief rundown?” He tries, voice slightly muffled by the sleeve of Hank’s thick lab coat.

“Oh, yes!” There’s a few seconds during which the only noise is the rustling of fabric, and the squeak of skin on the plastic-y surface. “The machine itself is meant to tap into brain functions via different pressure points on the head, and through three different frequencies of waves. The helmet goes on the head, then I’ll attach a few nodes on your arms and upper chest and have you step to the centre of the circular console so it can wirelessly connect. The idea is that it can amplify higher brain function, leading to faster and more intricate ways of thinking, possibly even telepathic-like abilities. I call it, Cerebro.”

Charles’s mind catches on that last part. “Telepathic?”

“Yeah. Like heightened senses that can increase empathy and ability to read others.”

He nods excitedly, his hair musing as the helmets shifts slightly back and forth.

At first, stepping into the circle after the nodes are placed proves terribly anticlimactic, and remains that way for over an hour, each attempt at powering up dying out with a spark and fizzle. It’s 11 o’clock before anything takes off, the room thrown into a glowing blue light. They both burst into triumphant laughter and Hank begins quickly scrawling notes on the process and Charles’s reaction.

They’re both on a buzzing high when they call it a night since Hank has an 8 o’clock class the next morning, though they desperately want to stay and continue working. When they’re cleaning and locking everything up Hank promises that he’ll get another room soon so that they can continue experimenting, and Charles will certainly hold him to it.


	17. The date day

If Charles had been worried about getting to sleep with the big date coming up before, he surely didn’t have any qualms with passing out as soon as he got to his bed after their experimenting session. In fact, he hardly even woke up when Hank’s alarm went off around 6:30, just rolling over to face wall before drifting back off. His own alarm goes off almost four times before he actually moves to turn it off, smashing his face into his pillow and letting out a low groan. 

After he does finally get to his feet he spends the next half hour standing blankly in front of his wardrobe, heavily saturated in his own anxiety. His sweatpants hang low on his hips, and his t-shirt has a tear at the shoulder. His reflection in the small, lengthwise mirror stares back at him helplessly, his eyes bleary, and hair sticking out and turning up in ringlet curls. He blinks once, twice, and finally remembers to draw in a large breath.

Most of the hangers are empty, their former occupants bundled up haphazardly at the bottom of his hamper. There’s an old lavender jumper that’s well loved at the edges and sets his eyes off in a way that makes them seem much more blue than they really are. On the very top layer of the quickly forming strata of dirty clothes sits an only slightly wrinkled pair of dark khakis. There’s not much of a choice otherwise, considering the remaining clothing was made up mostly of too-big t-shirts and that one semi-sheer piece that Raven had gotten him as “something to go clubbing in” (as though that was something that he’d actually do on his own).

Charles sighs and changes before heading into the bathroom and unceremoniously dunking his head under the sink faucet to thoroughly saturate his hair before brushing it down smoothly and draping a towel around his shoulders to catch the water as it dripped to his shoulders. After that it’s a tired shuffle into the kitchen, and he forgoes a cup of tea for a stronger mug of coffee, glad to already have leftover pancakes made so that there’s no need for anything more than a quick microwave warm up. 

He spends breakfast routinely going back and forth between shoveling bites of food into his mouth, draining two cups of coffee, and checking emails and social media. He tries to keep his eyes off of the time, knowing that the more often that he checks it, the slower that it will seem to flow. In fact, as he looks up to the top right corner, the digital clock only reads 10:30, and he’s got at least an hour before he’s got to make his way to the football pitch. 

Tomorrow the research labs will have been open for a full 24 hours, and he’ll be able to get in as early as four if need be, and he- and his research -might really benefit from at least a quick review. It’s easy enough to grab his laptop and pull of the plethora of documents that have been spread out across the last few months. He enlarges the screen to cut off the view of the clock at the top corner, and sets a timer on his phone for half before noon just to make sure that he heads out in time to make it to Napper’s Arable. He goes from a jittery bundle of nerves into hyper-focused research mode in no time, scanning, and starting to compile documents for ease of access in the future.

Charles is elbow deep in some lab reports when he suddenly finds himself startled to the floor at the blaring sound of an over exaggerated alarm buzzing in his pocket. His laptop didn’t quite make the fall with him, sitting precariously on the edge of the table as he blinks up at it for a few minutes, dazed. After another moment of the shrill noise he shakes off the science-induced stupor, and fishes his phone out of his pocket to dismiss the alarm before scrambling to his feet, re-situating his computer in a more stable spot, and shuffling to the door.  

The door itself has almost closed by the time that he realises that he hasn’t grabbed his keys, wallet or a jacket in his hazy trance-like state. His fingers get pinched as he just barely keeps from locking himself out, and me bites out a curse and sinks his teeth down into his tongue.

“Come on, Charles. Pull yourself together!” He murmurs.

His jacket is hanging near the door, but his phone is still on the breakfast table and his wallet has seemingly miraculously disappeared. Charles wakes up his computer to check the time and blanches. It’s nearly 11:40, and if he doesn’t get going in the next five minutes he won’t make it to the pitch in time, which of course only serves to make him more anxious and jittery. His hands are shaking when he drops to his knees to look under the furniture, turning his face away from the dust and dirt when he lays flat to stretch his arm out and grab his wallet. He brushes off his sweater and takes a moment to stand and centre himself, slowing his hastened breathing.

Of course he’s nervous. He was nervous even just thinking about texting Erik, let alone actually meeting up with him, but this felt almost ridiculous. If he was a little bit late Erik would understand, probably wouldn't mind or think anything of it. It won’t do to be so high strung and jittery on the date itself. He shoves his wallet into his pocket and stands still for a few seconds more, focusing on long inhales and matching long exhales before pulling on his jacket- keys already securely in the pocket-, sliding his phone in the opposite pocket from his wallet, and heading out- this time far more prepared.


	18. The Football Game

The grass is wet and dewy around the Oxford parks, clinging to the cuffs of his pants as he walks. He takes a bit of a roundabout way in, since his only memory of Nappers Arable comes from walks on the way to lunch. That and the fact that it’s just a little North of the genetic garden, over near what’s referred to as the “University Science Area” ( nicknamed the “Silence Area” by most of the student body).

The parks are meticulously maintained, with rich green grass almost year round, as though somehow it’s been spared from the unavoidable English waterlogging. Charles thinks that he really ought to come out here more, there’s plenty of open public areas to wander around, but he knows that he’s unlikely to really get the chance considering not only his heavy workload, but also his predisposition for staying indoors as much as possible.

He perks up a bit at the sounds of shouts beginning to carry over the pathway.

“Over here!”

“Oi! Watch it!”

“Left! Shaw, Left!”

“Someone get on him!”

It’s the familiar clamor of football. Something that he’d gotten to know both through playing briefly as a child, as well as Raven dragging him along to various friend and crushes games.

He trots up to the edge of the field, squinting his eyes against the sliver of sun peeking through the gray clouds. The match slowly comes into view, 22 men running around sweaty and in short shorts. If he were a lesser man, he’d be drooling over the spectacle. As is, he actually became a bit dry mouthed when he caught sight of Erik as he rushed the goal. The net was on the side closest to the pathway, and just as Erik line up for the killing shot, they’re eyes locked, and the other man let his mouth quirk up in a small smile. The ball hit hard in the upper left corner, just brushing the tips of the goalies fingers.

The guys on Erik’s team let out a triumphant roar, running up towards him and crashing their bodies together in something that was likely meant to be a hug, but almost seemed more like a massive wrestling match. Charles found himself grinning stupidly, flushing when he noticed that Erik’s eyes had remained on him throughout the ruckus, and still continued to stick on him- though in less of a direct stare and more of a subtle drift as he exchanged pleasantries with the other team and walked over to the side of the field to grab his bag.

Charles raised his hand in a weak wave, feeling his cheeks heat, and my God he’s still smiling like an idiot.

“That was a good shot.”

Erik slings his bag over his shoulder and this time, shows his teeth as he smiles. Charles stomach flutters.

“Jeez Lensherr, put away those shark teeth!” One of the guys passing them on his way out called, to which Erik responded with the middle finger of his left hand. Charles covered his mouth as he snorted. 

“That was a good shot.” He says on the end of a huffing laugh, shifting on his feet as Erik’s unwavering gaze continued to pin him down.

“Thank you.” Was the low reply. And Charles had almost forgotten how the distinct pitch of his voice seemed to reverberate off of his bones, rattling him in a way that has heat rising to his cheeks.

He just nods mutely, willing the blush to please, please go down. 

Erik runs a hand back through his sweaty hair and begins moving onto the pathway, leaving Charles to trot along beside him, with his shorter legs proving to be a slight hindrance in pacing.

“How are you?”

Charles nearly trips over his own feet, which is absolutely ridiculous because of course they were going to talk on the way to lunch. 

“I’m, well, I-” Charles looks sideways to find Erik’s eyes on him, looking at him with a gentle sort of feeling. A lot of the tension that had caught itself up in between his shoulder blades just melts away. “Well, Hank recently finished his first fully operational prototype of the experiment that he’s been working on and I had the chance to go and help him test it out last night, which was really terribly exciting and fascinating!”

“What’s the experiment?”

Charles bobs his head excitedly as though telling Erik that such a question was just the right one to ask. “It’s a technologically based experiment that he calls Cerebro, it’s supposed to boost brain waves- although, I haven’t really thought about the fact that it might be a bit skewed be-”

He cuts himself off, mouth snapping shut so quickly that his teeth click together. That’s far too much information. After all, he doesn't know how Erik might perceive any information of the X gene, let alone someone who actually has it. Anyway, the only person that knows about his…predicament, was Raven- just as much as he knew about her own.

They’re still walking forward, though a bit stilted as Erik’s eyes remain on him rather than paying attention to their surroundings. His own eyes are dropped onto the ground in front of him, and he’s sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth. He knows that he really ought to move the conversation onto something else, but all of the sudden his brain has short circuited, and he’s clamped down on any other brain function.

“It might be skewed because…?” Erik prods.

Charles opens his mouth, then closes it. Come on, Charles. You’re smart, think of something-oh!

He tilts his head up slightly and tries to give a believable smile. “I wouldn’t want to sound too conceited.”

Charles tries for a laugh but it comes out sounding weak even to his own ears. 

“Charles,” Erik starts, stopping back so quickly that Charles staggers forward a few more steps before stopping and turning back to face Erik. “I really…”

There’s a pause where they’re both just staring at one another. Erik seems as though he’s trying to decide on whether or not he wants to say what he’d been thinking of, and Charles thinks again that perhaps Erik is built in layers, and his rather stoic outside is hiding things that he’s hesitant to share. Though that that does nothing to prepare him for what Erik does say.

“I really like you, and I’d rather not have this relationship start with secrets and lies.”

Charles blinks, and his blush comes back full force. If his brain had short circuited before, he’s not entirely sure how to describe what’s happening to him now.


	19. X-Gene

“You what?” Charles asks dumbly.

“Charles.” Erik’s voice has dropped lower, sounding almost like a growl as he bites out Charles’s name. It really shouldn’t make him shiver, but it does anyway. “Don’t change the subject.”

“I-” He shakes himself, then drops his eyes down to the ground. There really ought to have been a lot more preparation for this. Mental preparation, physical preparation, explanation preparation. Instead, he looks up into Erik’s eyes and sees something beneath the stormy surface. “Can we…” He looks around, and though the only people in the park are out of ear shot he’s still unsure of the relative safety of the area. “Can we go back to my place?”

Where he had expected perhaps a slight hesitation there is none at all, and Erik nods immediately, stepping to the side to allow Charles to lead the way. He’s glad now that he’s not missed any of his classes so far, because it’s more likely than not that he’ll be skipping his 2:30 lecture today. His hand twitches as he walks past, fingers extending out towards Erik’s hand for a moment as though to grab onto it, but he shies away at the last moment, curling his hand into a fist.

The walk back takes almost half the time that it had taken to get there in the first place, half because of nerves, and the other half because of Erik’s terribly long legs. Due to which Charles has to take 2 steps for Erik’s every one.

The apartment is solemnly quiet when they walk in, and Charles has Erik drop his bag off by the door with his own jacket and shoes before leading over to the couch. Charles sits down heavily, making himself small amongst the large cushions as his knee begins to bounce. He expects Erik to stand, or maybe take a seat in the armchair adjacent to the couch, but the other man takes a seat beside him, almost close enough for their thighs to touch, and places a steadying hand on his jittery knee.

Charles sucks in a breath and whips his head around to look at Erik, eyes widening slightly, only to get a reassuring quirk of lips from the other. For some reason that makes the dam break, words tumbling out of him like a waterfall.

“I don’t want to scare you away, I really don’t. I mean only my sister really knows this, and of course there's a plethora of good reasons for that. But you’re just so perfect and amazing and I really didn’t want to mess this up, and a lot of people aren’t ready for this information, but I’ve been doing research for years and-”

Erik squeezed his knee once and interjected, “Charles breathe.”

He nods slowly, takes in a breath, and starts again.

“I’m...well...alright. I study genetics,as you know, it’s my passion and probably has been since I was a little boy and started digging through my father's scientific journals. As of the last maybe four or five years I’ve been working, almost exclusively, on my research in relation to the X-Gene. It’s something of an anomaly, and as far as the scientific community is concerned I’m sure that it doesn't exist. Of course, it certainly does, and I’m a clear example. However, the amount of people that actually have the X-Gene is small enough that it’s likely we all live under the radar- which is understandable all things considered. Now, the bulk of the information that I’ve collected in relation to the X-Gene is based off of myself with a control of the general human population. I have reason to believe that the X-Gene is positioned on the 23rd chromosome, and is likely activated during puberty, and produces an exotic protein which produces chemical signals that induce mutations on other genes.” He sucks in a large breath. “That is to say, more plainly, that in my case my genes have mutated in a way that has given me the power...of…telepathy.”

The room falls in to silence, but Erik hasn’t moved away. He hasn’t moved at all actually, hardly even seeming to blink when Charles looks over to him nervously. His heart is in his throat, and his body feels to confining, like he needs to rip out of it. His shields are still holding steady as they normally do, only giving him a very low level hum of his surroundings, sequestering away his power as though it doesn't really exist like he says it does. 

“You-” Erik starts, then stops again, seeming to reconsider what he was going to say. In that tense moment, their eyes lock, and Charles fervently hopes that he’s not the only one that feels the spark that runs between them. “There’s more of us?”

Charles binks a couple of times, mind churning the words. “Us?”

Instead of giving him a direct answer back Erik lifts up the hand not currently digging its fingers in a talon-like grip on his knee, and the coffee table beside them begins to hover. Charles nearly explodes, hands going to land on Erik’s shoulder as his face was split with a brilliant smile.

“That’s absolutely brilliant! Telekinesis?”

Erik’s mouth is twitching like he wants to smile but can’t quite decide if he should or not. “No, I don’t think so. It’s just with metal.”

That would make sense, the entire frame of the coffee table was metal.

“That’s wonderful! Oh, Erik this is fantastic!” 

He can’t help himself as he pitches forward, moving his hands from the spots on Erik’s shoulders to connect around his back, hugging him tightly.

“There’s more of us?” Erik says quietly, hot air brushing right against Charles’s ear. And bad Charles, this isn’t the time to turn into a puddle of goo.

He nods against Erik’s skin.

“You’re not alone.” He forces himself back, bringing a hand up to cradle Erik’s face, brushing a thumb over the slight stubble around the other’s mouth. “We’re not alone.”

“Show me?” Erik asks quietly.

Charles just looks at him for a moment, something feeling as though it’s crawling up his spine and grasping at the back of his head. The terror of anxiety and insecurity back with a vengeance.

“I...are you sure? I mean, telepathy is an awful lot, and I think most people aren’t really amenable to someone else being in their head-”

“Charles,” Erik interrupts, “I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t sure. I want to know.”

He nods slowly. “Do you...mind if I lean forward?”

Erik shakes his head, leaning a bit more into his space in response, and Charles tilts their foreheads together and closes his eyes. The careful shields that he’s built up in his mind are his to command, but they’re almost like doors with rusty locks on rusty hinges. They’ve been in place so long that he’s not quite sure how to move them beyond just a surface scan, which Erik wouldn’t be able to detect at all. He pries at them softly, not wanting to break them all down, but just wanting to open them enough for a little bit to spill through.

He reaches out and something lights up, like a wire connecting and a current running along it. His mind links itself to Erik’s and he gets a flood of emotions. Erik is happy, so happy. He’s also a bit scared and uneasy, but he also...he also feels very comfortable with Charles. Charles reaches out to a bright memory, pulling it in towards him and letting it blossom like a flower.

_ A little boy, no older than 6, sits at a tall counter, kneading something that looks like bread. He’s very focused, brows furrowed as he presses and pulls. Then a hand reaches out and smears flower on his cheek and he looks up to see the smiling face of his mother. He grins and giggles, reaching forward with his own flowery hands to try and get some powder on her, wiggling off of his seat to chase her as she moves away. Someone calls out to ask what’s going on, but it’s all good natured and happy, and a man- his father -turns the corner with a smile before giving a sharp laugh and grabbing the boys mother to hold her still as he smears flower on her dress. They’re all laughing, smiling, happy and carefree. _

Charles pulls back, gasping as he slams against the arm of the sofa with the force from which he pulled himself out of Erik’s head. His shields climb back up immediately. When he finally pushes himself up, Erik is looking at him with a sense of wonder, and a tear is rolling down his cheek.

“I’d forgotten about that.” 


End file.
